


people talk

by hotmess_ex_press



Category: 4minute (Band), Pentagon (Korea Band), Triple H (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Closure, F/F, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, Relationship Study, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Love, You'll see what I mean, all over the place, confusing use of pronouns cause aesthetic, kinda??? i guess, lapslock, no au, poor hui and edawn, they just wanna love her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-27 21:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotmess_ex_press/pseuds/hotmess_ex_press
Summary: hwitaek stands a way back. he has the most to lose, after all, so she doesn't blame him; in fact, she prefers he stay farther from the edge. that way, hyojong will have something to fall back on. hwitaek is steady, sure, certain. he is the ocean, hyojong is the cruel waves rising off of him, and she could be the currents dancing deep beneath their surface. steady, sure, certain. he is his own gravity and center. hyojong orbits uncertainly around him, and she feels like nothing more than wandering debris with no place to call home. no mind of her own, left to drift aimlessly. nothing, nothing.





	people talk

**Author's Note:**

> this is sad and messy please enjoy

_queen_ , they call her.

she sees the comments. youtube twitter tumblr instagram. the name warms her insides, swirly and tingly and nice on her good days, angry and raging and lavalike on her bad. pleasantly dreamy when she feels she has earned the title. hateful, hateful when all she wants is to crawl into her bathtub, wash down all the pills in her medicine cabinet with the best champagne in the world, and sleep forever.

they call her a _slut_ , too.

but that's not right. that _can't_ be right. if it was, _someone_ would desire her, no? if it was, she wouldn't be falling asleep in an empty bed, night. after night. after _night_. no. they are all wrong.

she is nothing to everyone. everything to no one. she is all bright red lips and fake blue eyes hiding the lack of colors everywhere else.

she is absence absence _absence_ , and love is _absent absent_ absent in her insipid life.

 

 

 

"noona," hyojong calls her.

"noona," hwitaek calls her.

"noona," hongseok calls her, and shinwon. changgu, yanan, yuto, hyunggu, wooseok. not often. but still.

_noona unnie sunbae sunbaenim_. ringing through her ears every minute of every day. they have lost their meaning, fuzz on the tip of her tongue, pointless buzzing in her ears. no one has _meant_ it in so long, no one ever puts that honey-sweet affection behind their words anymore, the delicious _warmth_ she craves. (but then again.) (maybe her expectations are too high. maybe all she wants is to be called _unnie, noona_ with the same peculiar sort of forbidden love she had given gayoon all those years ago. maybe she will never hear what she really wants because _that_ love, _pure pure pure pure_ broken, will never, ever exist again. too pure, too pure, too broken.)

_"unnie,"_ she had called gayoon, with that strange, indefinable adoration.

_"hyuna,"_ gayoon would reply, glance away, glance away. her tone like pretty flowers caught in translucent ice, voice concealing all the sacred emotions she never let show.

 

 

 

_hui got the lines, but e'dawn got hyuna_ , they say.

and it's true, in a way. it's not a lie. hui got the most lines. e'dawn kissed her, she kissed e'dawn, they made music to the shouts of the directors, the whirr of the cameras, breathed in each other and the sweet, sweet cigarette smoke she can't let go of.

(and yet and yet and yet)

kim hyojong does not kiss kim hyuna the way kim hyojong kisses lee hwitaek. she won't let him.

"noona," he pants, still a comfortable weight inside of her. she closes her eyes, drowns herself in the heat and the dark and the pain. "it would work. it could work. why won't you let yourself love us?"

hyojong won't, so she pulls away, gently nudges the boy farther. he is pliant, lenient. soft in ways you wouldn't guess from the way his eyes glint harsh and his voice hisses the dirtiest things and his lovers bear purple-red marks the morning after. tender in all the places you wouldn't think to look. hwitaek passes a cool, damp towel over them, _shuddery shaky sated_ , before tossing it to the side, slipping into bed beside them. he curves into hyojong, the pair fitting together better than she ever thought possible. she presses chaste kisses to both their foreheads, goes to brew a pot of coffee. sleepless is a term that describes her nights well. empty is even better.

she can recall a time when she was the one asking. _why can't you love me?_

gayoon never answered. why should she?

 

 

 

_i miss 4minute_ , they complain. _it's so unfair!_

yes, she agrees. it was very unfair.

the talent, the lines, the screen time. imbalanced. imperfect. when was it not? they were doomed to fail from the very start. fated to crash and burn like the tantalizing love songs they teased out from their weary vocal cords.

jihyun, too hardworking, too loyal, too giving.

gayoon, too cold and far, _far_ too beautiful.

jiyoon, too sharp, too quick, too angry.

sohyun, too young, too scared, too forgiving.

sohyun is the only one who still speaks to her. gayoon disappeared, jiyoon screamed and blazed and stormed off, jihyun was just tired. but sohyun, their sweet maknae, angelic and good and doe-eyed, held her hand and sniffled and left fluttery kisses along the ridge of her cheekbone. she was perceptive. she still is.

"i have gayoon's number," sohyun whispers, toying with her napkin. they are at a busy café, heads close together, corner seat by the window. their eyes follow the paths of the people outside, watching, waiting, wasting time. sohyun smells like peaches and chanel. "maybe you should talk to her."

she shakes her head. she isn't worthy. let gayoon go on peacefully. it's not her place, to reopen healed wounds.

"you still love her," sohyun weaves their fingers together, too knowing, too innocent to have seen so much. she is not so young anymore, but she has not lost nearly so much, either. "i can see it."

she hums, noncommittal.

sohyun continues. "i loved you, you know. could you tell?"

"no," she replies, because if one person deserves the truth, it's sohyun. "do you, still?"

tinkly laugh, like fairy bells. "the whole world loves you, kim hyuna. i wish you could see that."

sohyun bids her farewell, lips satin against the skin of her cheek. she leaves behind an ache tangible even under the gaping loneliness and regret, prominent in the hollow void of kim hyuna's chest.

_sorry_ , she doesn't get a chance to say. _sorry._

 

 

 

"he loves you," hwitaek tells her.

she knows. oh _god_ , she knows. it's obvious in the softness with which he moves his mouth against hers, how he knows when to snap his hips fast or roll them enticingly, just by looking her in the eye. the lingering gaze that sends shivers throughout her whole body when he thinks she's not paying attention. everyone must know by now, surely. she doesn't read those gossipy articles these days, having learned her lesson a thousand times over, but they must talk about the two of them, the feelings painstaking, burning in his dazed stare, her caring, more-than-friendly nature. his bandmates know. his boyfriend knows.

kim hyojong is in love with kim hyuna.

"he loves you," hwitaek repeats. "and i could grow to."

their hands find each other. she squeezes lightly, finding solace in the smoothness. so unlike hyojong's. hwitaek is the moon, hyojong is the sun, and she could be the heavens embracing them both. could be.

"i know."

_(all these people's love. and yet, she is still so hollow.)_

 

 

 

_"selfish!"_ jiyoon had shrieked.

jiyoon: tall, wrathful. red red red. fame-driven and fame-drunk. she would channel that rage, tap into it, with her movements. when she danced, it was thunder and earthquakes and the fury of the gods. when she danced, it was all eyes on her and no one else. cutting. scathing. biting, just like her iron-clad tongue. she was merciless against this world of blurred-out whites and greys. she was her own brand of crisp black and crimson.

she threw things. she yelled. she craved loud noises and metal. sohyun shrank into the corner, quivering like a tulip that had pushed its way out of the snow too early. jihyun had gripped the couch cushions, knuckles white, looked on with jaded (desperate exhausted bleak _tired_ ) eyes. gayoon was already gone. so she took it. drank down the words like bitter medicine she knew she had to swallow. flinched at every step closer jiyoon took, though she knew, even then, the only person jiyoon ever hurt was herself. she knew, even then, that all jiyoon wanted was to taste blood, and your own body is always closest.

the thought of jiyoon and her impenetrable hate still haunts her to this day, jiyoon's scarlet fingertips and glistening eyes.

it was never _enough_ for jiyoon.

her fingers skate over the one picture of jiyoon she owns. a teardrop splashes onto the cool glass. she tries to wipe it off with the pad of her thumb, but it only spreads. jiyoon's smile seems to distort under the fragile shield. a grimace. she doesn't seem nearly so vicious anymore, just frightened. hurting. shattered and abandoned, like the crumbling ruins of a once-lavish mansion, a thousand miles from anything.

perhaps they aren't so different, after all.

 

 

 

_she has grown so much!_ they gush.

but this can't be true, either.

if she had grown, she wouldn't need to cry and wish she was someone else, anyone else. she wouldn't ache for the past and the future and the little girl with big dreams she used to be. she would be proud and glorious and smiling. it wouldn't hurt hurt _hurt_ , like a sharp thorn lodged into her chest, like tomorrow is but an idle promise and tonight's hopeless dusk will stretch on forever.

(perhaps it will. perhaps this is all in vain, anyway.)

and, _gods_.

her love for gayoon would be gone. dissolved. disappeared. evaporated. thrown out like yesterday's newspaper and today's too-old shoes, tossed away just like everything else she's outgrown.

she has left behind so many things in order to have it all. a million charming people have come her way, touched her, sworn to hand her the world on a silver platter, and she has watched them all walk away, led them to the door herself. why can't she let go of that vivid voice, dark hair, pale skin carrying the scent of clouds and lilac? gayoon has vowed nothing to her. why should she be the exception?

_tears are falling, flowing down my cheeks_

_what do i do with the scars in my heart, all by myself?_

 

 

 

"please, noona," hyojong begs.

hwitaek stands a way back. he has the most to lose, after all, so she doesn't blame him; in fact, she prefers he stay farther from the edge. that way, hyojong will have something to fall back on. hwitaek is steady, sure, certain. he is the ocean, hyojong is the cruel waves rising off of him, and she could be the currents dancing deep beneath their surface. steady, sure, certain. he is his own gravity and center. hyojong orbits uncertainly around him, and she feels like nothing more than wandering debris with no place to call home. no mind of her own, left to drift aimlessly. nothing, nothing.

her bare feet grip the cement tightly. hyojong's calloused hands grasp her arm even tighter. it's grounding to her, the same way she knows hwitaek's presence is to him. (hwitaek, hwitaek can stand on his own.)

"hyuna," hyojong's lone voice, air whistling past them. the wind flows on, regardless.

the crunch of hwitaek's boots means he is moving again. _no, no,_ she thinks. _don't come closer. can't you see? we need your gravity._

"hey." hwitaek speaks low and sweet and hushed. the sun sneaks a peek through the heavy clouds, drawn in just like everyone else. even the gods could not resist his voice, achingly delicious. "we're here, alright?"

she gulps down air that doesn't quite reach her lungs. _shoulders back head up shoulders back head up smilesmilesmile see everything is fine it's okay it's okay smile why the fuck can't you just get it together? smilesmile--_

_no._

she slumps into hyojong's arms, and he staggers back. hwitaek catches them both into his soothing embrace, smelling of safety and comfort and trust. (maybe he smells like ralph lauren and steaming tea and autumn. maybe it has all become synonymous with the smile that soaks into her soul every time she sees him, anyway.) hwitaek is steady, sure, certain. she breathes in.

"how do i know you'll stay?" she sighs, teary. drip drip drip. it all blurs together.

"because we will," they speak together. they are perfect harmony, balance between silk and roughness, pain and warmth. they are each other's, and she could be theirs.

could be.

_could be._

 

 

 

"you are the reason i can't love anymore," she says.

gayoon looks away, just like she used to. she nods, because, chances are, she knows. because she's always known. because she's gayoon, heo gayoon, immortal but evanescent, lovely yet loveless. gayoon's hands are impossibly cold, if she remembers correctly. she wouldn't dare touch the ethereal woman now. gayoon is still too captivating to be real. she might vanish any moment, here then gone again like a sudden spring rain, like the teasing whisper of a sultry breeze.

"why couldn't you love me?" she prompts, still quiet, still cautious.

"i don't know," gayoon bites the inside of her cheek, blinking quickly. "but you are so worthy of love"

_wicked lies wicked lies_. she shakes her head, laugh far too disbelieving to be genuine. "what are you saying?"

gayoon raps her knuckles against the table, eyes so sad. more emotions than she's ever shown before, surely. even her voice drips in regret, potent and terrifyingly elegantly irrationally _beautiful_. "everyone loves you, hyuna. i was just the glitch. flaw in the system. it was just your luck to fall for the one who couldn't feel anything. not for you. not for herself. can't you see? i'm not worth it. don't stop loving for me."

tears well up in both their eyes, but none spill over. it scares her, to see gayoon so vulnerable, so delicate. "gayoon..."

"please," gayoon pulls her hood over her head, stands up. shadowy. exquisite. heartbreakingly enchanting. "please, hyuna. forget me."

she walks out, and closes the door carefully. her steps are silent. gayoon seems to take with her the unbearable weight that had hung heavy in the air for too long, pressing hard on her lungs for even longer. she feels lighter, though her heart pinches wistfully.

 

hyuna finds her voice.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are loved and cherished forever.


End file.
